Wish
by ScribbleDream
Summary: Horrible, awful things that had Greg enraptured. He wished he could tear his eyes away, he wished he could tear himself away, but he couldn't. All he could do was watch with horror and fear..." Mention of Rape, NickGreg friendship


Title: Wish  
Author: ScribbleDream  
Summary: "Horrible, awful things that had Greg enraptured. He wished he could tear his eyes away, he wished he could tear himself away, but he couldn't. All he could do was watch with horror and fear..."  
Rating: R for mention of rape and swearing.  
Author's Note: Angst, anyone? All reviews welcome, and appreciated! Mui Mucho! One-shot.  
Disclaimer:checks on Greg, Warrick, and Nick tied up in the basement: Well, Warrick is out of his coma, but I got him in his cage, and Nick has not yet torn off the radiator. Greg, however, seems to be enjoying himself, so he won't be leaving. However, they still aren't mine. Oh, but they will be. Theeeeeyyyy will be:maniacal laughter: Eh-hem. right. Enjoy.

* * *

Greg stared through the window. The little girl couldn't see him. He knew that. She didn't know he was there. She was talking to Catherine. Hell, Catherine probably didn't even know he was there. Only Nick knew, and he only knew because he was standing beside him.

Greg wished he couldn't see her, but he could. She was so small, so... helpless. Only seven, skinny as could be, with the widest brown eyes you'd ever see. Her hair was brown too, though not as dark as her eyes, nor as shiny, and it was brushed up into thick pigtails. Her cheeks were pudgy, and if she hadn't been on the verge of tears and looking terrified, she would have been, arguably, the cutest girl Greg had ever seen. Right now, she was just the saddest.

Greg also wished that he couldn't hear her, and what she was saying, but he could. She had such a wispy voice, as though it was going to break or just float away. It would have been a cute voice, to match her cute appearance, if only it didn't waver and choke so much, and if it weren't for the things she was saying.

Horrible, awful things that had Greg enraptured. He wished he could tear his eyes away, he wished he could tear himself away, but he couldn't. All he could do was watch with horror and fear and wait with baited breath for Catherine to ask another question.

"Molly..." Catherine paused, trying pull herself together. This must have been worse for her than it was for Greg. After all, she had to have this little girl look at her with those sad, sad eyes, and speak to her with that frail, frail voice. Greg just had to watch. "Did you get a look at the man when he came into your room?"

"No," whispered the little girl. Molly. That was her name. Why did Greg have to hear her name? "It was so dark and, and his face was... covered."

"Covered?"

"By... something. A cloth something."

"What did the cloth something look like?" Catherine asked. Her voice was so gentle, as if the very words would break Molly. The girl. Greg forced himself to think of her only as The Girl, thinking it would seperate him from the case. It didn't work. It just made him feel more awful. More nauseous.

"It was... black. And it looked like... like a hat. With holes for th-the eyes. His eyes." The Girl had begun to stutter, just making her seem more delicate. If Greg looked closely, he could see her shivering. He tried not to stare, even though she couldn't see him through the two-way mirror, but he couldn't stop watching her shivering. He wished Catherine would get her a blanket or a coat or something. He wished she'd stop quaking.

"Do you remember what color his eyes were?"

"I... I think they were b-black. Or... or brown. L-like mine."

"All right. That's good, sweetheart, you're doing great." Catherine gave her a warm smile, but her face hid sadness in its depths. The same sadness that Greg showed openly now, in his gaping mouth and horror-struck eyes. The same sadness The Girl had all over her, in her very exsistance.

Catherine went on after a moment, collecting herself. Greg was thankful for the moment. "What did the man do after he came into your room?"

"H-he..." The Girl stopped, her voice getting caught in her fluttering throat. She let out a sob and her face fell to her hands. Greg wanted to run in and stop the whole thing, and just hold her. Just hold this little girl he'd never met. It was the most ridiculous thought he'd ever had, but he wanted it. He even made a step towards the door into the Child's Interrogation Room, but Nick placed a strong hand on his shoulder. Greg almost jumped. He'd forgotten Nick was there.

"Molly... sweetheart... it's okay. You're safe now. He can't get to you anymore, ever again." Catherine sounded so sure of herself, and as she comforted The Girl, she was unknowingly comforting Greg as well. "Molly, can you tell me what happened?"

"H-he knew my n-name!" Molly cried. "He kn-knew ab-bout the d-dolly my Mommy g-g-gave me for my b-birthday! He kn-knew m-my doggie's name!"

"Molly..."

"H-he w-wanted to talk ab-bout them," Molly said, her voice quieter, but just as alarming as it had been when she shouted. "On-nly he d-did all the t-talking. H-he knew e-everything."

"When did he talk about it?"

"B-before." The Girl looked at the small table she and Catherine sat at, and her voice was now almost inaudible. Catherine bent lower to hear her.

"Before what?"

"B-before he... touched me."

It was as if the sharpest dagger in the world plunged into Greg's stomach and was wiggling itself around. And it was ice cold and curved and long. He even physically recoiled. The rational part of his brain was not surprised, he'd known it was a rape case before he came in here, but the other part, the part that was concentrating on The Girl, hadn't wanted it to be true and had ignored the facts. He hadn't wanted to believe it...

Nick's grip on his shoulders tightened, just a little, but that was the only physical reaction that Greg noticed in Nick. If Greg had looked, he might have noticed Nick's jaw tense and his eyes darken and narrow, but he didn't. He couldn't bring himself to life his gaze from The Girl. From Molly.

"I-it hurt," Molly was saying, her voice quaking. "I-it hurt so bad."

"I know, honey," Catherine said, so motherly and tenderly.

"It's my fault, it's all m-my f-fault."

Greg couldn't listen anymore. He turned, leaving Nick staring after him. The last words he heard was Catherine's consoling voice saying, "Oh, no, honey, it's not your fault at all..." but the words slowly drifted away as the door swung shut behind him. He had wanted to slam it, but he didn't have the strength. He barely had the strength to stumble into the locker room and collapse on the benches. He didn't even have the strength to cry.

"Greg..." He heard Nick's voice, but it was from another world, another time. He said nothing. Nick sat down beside him. "I'm sorry, Greg."

Greg looked up, slowly, and stared at him in disbelief. "Sorry," he repeated simply, no emotion in his voice.

"Everyone's first child rape case is like that, but it's better to get through the first before you're a full-fledged CSI than when you have to work the case..."

Greg gave a harsh laugh. "Oh, I get it. First, you make me watch that, and then rub it in my face that I'm not going to be able to help catch the bastard."

Nick seemed alarmed. "Greg, that's not what I-"

"Save it," Greg snapped. "I don't want to hear it."

Nick sighed, but didn't stand up. Greg was feeling uncomfortable on the bench, so he stood and paced. He couldn't get her voice out of his head, or her sweet, chocolate eyes. Innocent. She looked so innocent... How could anyone do... that to a child that was so innocent and naive? Fucking bastard, Greg thought, and wished he could think of something worse to think about him, whoever he was. Unfortunatly, his mind was on the fritz at the moment, and that was all he could come up with. It frusterated him.

"Damn it!" he yelled, swinging a fist with all his might into one of the lockers. He ignored the pain, although he'd probably broken a finger or two from the hit. Nick instantly rose and came over to him, where he leaned, collapsed more likely, into the locker, and was sobbing like a child.

"Greg," Nick said, standing awkwardly beside him. Greg ran his non-injured hand through his spikey hair and let the tears finally fall down his cheeks. Nick finally placed a hand on his shoulder and started to chant, "It's all right. It's going to be all right," over and over again. It was almost soothing, but to be soothed only made Greg cry harder. He wished he wasn't. He wished he could be stronger. He wished he had some sort of will, like Nick did. He wished... well, he wished a lot of things.

"Nick," Greg finally said, through sobs and tears. "Catch the bastard."

Nick gave a half-smile. "Always."

Greg nodded. He could only wish...


End file.
